Dispelling the myth of "compassion fatigue."

An LGBT Language Lesson for Beginners

When I was a waitress, I made the mistake of cooing over a newborn at my table and asking how old he was – only to discover that he was actually a she. So I lost my trust in the pink-blue gender-coding scheme and resolved to tread lightly when patting the egos of proud parents. An incorrectly addressed compliment creates an uncomfortable hick-up in conversation because gender identity is a sacred space, which means it can also be a sensitive topic.

I expect that committing this faux pas is an experience most people can relate to. And despite any resolution to be more diplomatic the next time you encounter a bald baby dressed in yellow and green, but adorned with a bonnet, you may very well commit a repeat offense. We are socialized to identify gender by a culturally defined set of behavioral and visual cues and feel embarrassed when we fail to interpret these cues. (If you boast a perfect track record with newborns, then consider an instance where you verbally assumed someone’s mother was their grandmother and you’ll get a sense of the feeling I’m trying to conjure.)

In my recent journalistic endeavors I’ve chosen to adjust my human rights and equality lens, zooming in on Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) issues here in the Midwest. I’ve been awash in building new contacts, familiarizing myself with LGBT resources and getting a sense for the stories that haven’t yet been told. But before I set out to report on the LGBT beat, I was struck by an unparalleled sense of incompetence. I wasn’t entirely confident in my ability to navigate a more ambiguous (or fluid, in defining sexuality along a continuum) realm of pronouns and gender/sexual identity labels. The last thing I wanted to do was inadvertently offend an interviewee by making wrong assumptions about the way they identify.

So the first thing I did was search for LGBT vocabulary guides online. In my initial Internet search, I came across the GLAAD Media Reference Guide. I had to wonder, to what extent is this type of resource utilized by those involved in mainstream media production? Regardless, I quickly identified a term that I had not previously perceived as offensive. As stated in the GLAAD guide:

Because of the clinical history of the word “homosexual,” it is aggressively used by anti-gay extremists to suggest that gay people are somehow diseased or psychologically/emotionally disordered – notions discredited by the American Psychological Association and the American Psychiatric Association in the 1970s.

The preferred terms to describe a person who is attracted to someone of the same sex are “gay” or “lesbian.” I suppose my instincts told me to shy away from these terms because they are often thrown through high school hallways with a derogatory intent. While I certainly wasn’t using “homosexual” among friends and family, it had this false notion that it was appropriate in situations where I wanted to be more diplomatic in my language choices.

Another great language glossary I’ve been referencing is the Ally Workshop Guide, published by Safe Zones at Washington University, in St. Louis. It provided the most comprehensive acronym I’ve comes across so far (along with clear definitions):

The more I participate in the dialogue surrounding this realm of human rights, the more comfortable I become with the nuances of the terms used within the LGBT community. I’m not sure my fear of tripping on pronouns and slipping into assumptions that are informed by my own gender & sexuality lens will be completely alleviated, but those I’ve talked to so far have offered some positive reassurance: intent matters. In instances of a clumsy delivery, sincerity can be your greatest alibi. When you do offend someone, offer an apology, adopt that individual’s preferred work choice and move on.

If you have any personal insight on LGBT sensitive language or resources to share, please use the comments section below. I appreciate it.